Chapter 34
Chapter 34:
Skye narrowed her eyes but didn’t stop. Let them watch.
The VIP corridor was a different world. The chaotic noise of the main floor was muffled by heavy soundproofing, replaced by a hush that cost five thousand dollars a bottle to experience. Skye walked down the hallway, the plush red carpet swallowing the sound of her heels. She counted the doors.
One. Two. Three.
Room 4.
She didn’t knock.
Skye pushed the heavy door open. The room was dimly lit by amber sconces, smelling of leather and decadence. Ethan Vance was lounging on a velvet sofa that looked like it had been upholstered in sin. He was surrounded by three women—models, by the look of their impossible bone structure—who were laughing at a joke he probably hadn’t even finished telling.
Ethan looked up. His glass of whiskey paused halfway to his mouth. The lazy, predatory grin he wore for the models vanished, replaced by genuine confusion that quickly sharpened into recognition.
“Well,” Ethan drawled, setting his glass down. He waved a dismissive hand at the women. “Ladies, the fun police have arrived. Scram p>
The models pouted, gathering their clutches and casting dirty looks at Skye as they filed out. Skye ignored them. She waited until the last one had left, then let the heavy door click shut. The silence that followed was heavy, pressurized.
“You look better,” Ethan said, leaning back and spreading his arms along the top of the sofa. “Less like a corpse, more like a vampire. I like it p>
Skye didn’t sit. She walked to the small bar cart in the corner. She didn’t pour a drink. Instead, she picked up the crystal decanter, feeling its weight, and turned to face him.
“You have a big mouth, Vance,” she said softly.
Ethan chuckled. “Is this about the lecture hall? Your husband looked like he was going to pop a vein. I was just being a concerned citizen p>
“You were marking territory,” Skye corrected.
𝖱е𝘢d𝖾𝗿 с𝗼𝗺m𝗎ո𝗶𝗍𝘆 𝗈𝗻 b𝗲𝗅𝗇𝗈𝘃𝘦𝘭ѕ.c𝘰𝗆
She walked toward him, stopping only when her knees brushed the coffee table. She sat with deliberate control, making the shift in power unmistakable. “But right now, I’m not here to argue about your ego. I’m here to save your neck p>
Ethan’s smile faltered. He sat up straighter, reaching for his drink. “What are you talking about p>
“I’m talking about your sloppiness,” Skye said.
She pulled her phone from her pocket and tapped the screen once. Then she turned it around and placed it face-up on the table. It was a spreadsheet. A very specific spreadsheet.
Ethan squinted at the small screen. Then he froze. His hand tightened around his whiskey glass until his knuckles turned white.
“The Cayman Islands,” Skye said conversationally. “Account number 774-Bravo. It’s amazing how much money flows through shell companies registered to your ‘consulting firm,’ isn’t it? I found the printouts in Liam’s wastebasket last week. He thought they were trash. I thought they were leverage p>
Ethan stared at her. The playboy was gone. In his place was the scion of a ruthless business empire. His eyes were cold, calculating.